


Interrogation Room

by orphan_account



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Costumes, Exhibitionism, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-05
Updated: 2014-08-05
Packaged: 2018-02-11 21:54:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2084493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Conner has a very specific fantasy in mind. He wants Tim to watch, and Tim is more than glad to do so.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Interrogation Room

**Author's Note:**

> No trigger warnings for this one, just some good ol' ordering around and performance kink.

The door locks behind him with a loud metallic clack. Conner doubles backwards, attempts to steady his nerves as the noise echoes ominously around the otherwise silent, grey room.

It’s just like he pictured it. A metal table in the center of the room, a chair on either side (though Conner knows he won’t be using either of them. A one-way mirror a floor upwards, three cameras right below it (left, right and center). There’s a tube of lube on the right-hand side of the table. It’d probably look out of place if not for the white tube didn’t match perfectly with the flickering fluorescent lights beaming down from the ceiling. Instead it looks clinical, colorless and intimidating—just like the rest of the room. On the other side is a small grey speaker, old, worn and dirty. It’s perfect.

He swallows hard, his lips twitching. He takes his place in front of the table and looks bashfully up at the center camera. The speaker gives a small crackle as it turns on, and then he hears the faint, sloppy wet sound of Tim licking his lips as he adjusts the microphone.

Conner imagines he’s just as nervous as he is, imagines he can see the faint outline of Tim’s shadow on the glass; pictures the domino, the cape, the gloves—his figure hunched over the microphone, his elbows pressed against the table it sits on; feels his lips pressed to his own when he closes his eyes—just the way that they did when Tim assured him, sympathetic and voice soothing, that this was an okay thing to want. ‘/More than okay/,’ he had said. ‘/Perfect/.’ Conner was surprised to believe even the first part.

“Safe word?” The question is tentative, stalling.

“Kryptonite.”

“Get on the table.” The order is not.

Tim’s voice takes the authoritative, demanding edge of Robin, and Conner’s cock stiffens beneath his jeans. He hops on the table, scooting back but letting his calves hang over the edge of the table, his legs spread to compensate for the chair in between his knees. Conner looks up shyly at the camera, leaning back on his hands as Tim’s voice rumbles back into the room.

“Take off your clothes. Leave the shirt on.”

Conner unbuttons and unzips his pants, kicking off his shoes and socks. He’s slow to push his boxers jeans off his waist… down his thighs, his knees, his calves… pooling between his ankles—

“/Conner/.” Tim’s voice is stern and scolding, Conner flushes behind his grin and finally shrugs it all off and onto the floor. He spreads his legs again, looking decidedly down at the floor.

“You’re already hard.” Tim says. It’s not a question. Conner perks up, nodding quickly.

“Lean back, so I can see /all of you/.” Conner leans back on a hand, his gaze narrowly avoiding the camera as he tries to keep his composure. He slowly pushes his shirt up with his other hand, lets it lay right above his abs.

“Do you want to touch yourself for me, Superboy?”

Conner’s breath heavies as he nods and lets out a whining hum. “Mhm.”

“Prove it. Stick your fingers in your mouth.” Conner does, wraps his lips around his fingers as he stares at the camera. “Now suck.”

Conner moans around his digits, hollowing out his cheek as he sucks hard for him, thrusts them gently in and out of his mouth.

“You can do better than that.” And Conner can. He sucks harder, presses them deep against his throat, gags on his own fingers and moans louder as saliva drips down his fingers.

Tim lets out an approving hum. It segues right into the Robin voice. “Show the cameras how you play with yourself.”

Conner lets out a hard groan as he grips himself tightly, squeezing as his balls before he starts to stroke himself.

“So /rough/,” Tim purrs out. Conner whimpers, stroking faster, his TTK wrapping around his length as well. He moans loud for ‘Robin.’

“You don’t want me, Conner.” Conner’s mouth gapes open, his breath hitches as he lets his TTK grope at his balls. “You want to touch yourself for me. You want me to watch you. You want to /give/ yourself to me. Isn’t that right?” Conner nods and groans, his hand pumping furiously as he feels himself grow closer to climax.

“You remember what we’ve been practicing with your TTK?”

Conner’s face crumples, he continues to palm himself harder and faster in a desperate attempt to come before Tim gives the order.

“Wrap that ring around yourself, Superboy. Just like we practiced.”

Conner nods, biting his lip, his hand sliding back to the table as he tries his best to focus. His TTK shifts up his cock, forms a ring of his own mental energy around the base of his cock. He looks back up at the camera.

“/Tighter/.”

It squeezes against him, turning his cock redder and impossibly harder.

“Good. Now lay back on the table.” He does, the table stiff against his back.

“You see that lube?” Conner’s eyes shift over. “Get your fingers nice and slick.” Conner reaches over, unscrews the cap, squirts as much as he can on to his palm. Tim lets out an approving grunt, and Conner slowly spreads it over his fingers.

“You get /one/ finger.” Conner’s eyes widen, his lips twitching into a brief smile. “/Slow/, Conner.” It fades, his lips parted as he reaches between his legs and presses it slowly inside.

His moan is sudden and it echoes around the room as it bursts from his body. “/Tim/.”

Conner hears slower, heavier breaths over the speaker, as he begins to thrust the finger inside him. His cock leaks against his abs. Tim said /slow/, but he didn’t say /gentle/, and he fucks his finger into himself hard, /slamming/ it against his prostate and whining for ‘Tim’ and for ‘Robin.’

“Add another finger.”

Conner does, twisting his fingers and stretching them as wide as he can, his back arching as he teases them against his prostate.

“A-another.” Tim’s breath hitches through the order and Conner pictures him with his tights around his ankles, his hand wrapped around his cock just /watching/ Conner fuck himself and it’s almost enough to make him come right there. He squeezes his eyes shut and he adds another finger, sobbing out for him.

“I want to see how fast you can go.” Tim’s voice drips with an angry kind of arousal, and Conner can feel his cock /drip/ again as he screws himself /Kryptonian/ hard and Kryptonian fast, moans and curses bubbling from him chest and spewing from his lips as he loses control.

“Rob, I—I need to /come/. Let me come. Rob. Fuck, Fuck! Ah! So—need to come, please. Please, please, fuck, please, Rob—“

Tim begins to grunt on the monitor, his voice breathy and desperate. “Fuck yourself through it. Touch yourself and-and—fuck yourself through it.”

Conner jerks himself, his hips bucking between both his hands. Tim’s grunts are getting louder, little moans of arousal and he whispers out Conner’s name before he groans /hard/ and then swallows loud, the speaker relegated back to his gentle pants.

Conner comes with the ring still around his cock, fucks himself through it, just like Tim asked. His back arches, he shoots his load hard in his hands and then licks his fingers.

“I didn’t ask you to do that.” Tim says, struggling to find his voice and any semblance of intelligent thought.

Conner smirks, chest heaving as he sits up. “I know. I was pretending it was /yours/.”

Tim hums half with annoyance and half with arousal.” He snorts out a laugh. “Put on your pants, /Superboy/.” His voice is teasing, and the door clicks open. “Show’s over.”


End file.
